


Life is a Highway

by armario



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, mostly Harvey-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/armario
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a man like Jim Gordon around, hearts are always going to be broken. But Harvey's determined it won't be his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're In My Blood

This is  _boring._

Usually, boring means safe, and Harvey's okay with that. But now Gordon's around, it means  _let's cause trouble._

Some trouble is fun. Like, Fish Mooney's trouble, and she's  _very_ fun. Unfortunately, the boy scout's idea of fun consists of picking fights with petty criminals or getting shot. Sometimes both.

"Will you  _sit still,_ goddammit?" Harvey hisses.

"This is stupid! We're just waiting for something bad to happen. We've been here for hours," Jim fires back.

"That's the point of a stakeout, idiot."

Jim snorts irritably, folding his arms like a sulking child. Harvey can't empathise (he loves the chance to chill for hours in a cramped, freezing car with all the greasy, dodgy takeout food he can eat) but he knows his partner hates being cooped up, hates waiting, hates not getting anything done.

"Hey, look," Harvey relents, rolling his eyes. "Couple more hours and we can call it a day. Go to sleep, I'll let you. Eat some of this Gotham specialty food. I'll wake you if there's any heroics to be done," he finishes dryly.

Jim gives in, but hides his smirk. He shifts, leaning his head against the window, wraps his arms round himself and closes his eyes. 

Harvey waits till his partner's breathing evens out to shrug off his jacket and drape it round the kid.

Nothing to see here. Harvey just doesn't want him freezing to death. 

The older cop watches the docks even though nothing's going to happen this evening. The sky is a drained red, the dying sun makes the water shimmer nice colours and highlight the gold of Jim's hair and Harvey pretends he didn't notice that last thing.

He shovels a few more fries into his mouth, wishing he had some Scotch or a cigarette. He thinks of his filthy apartment waiting for him when they leave and catches himself wishing he could just stay right here, watching the sun go down with his partner by his side, like he's the good cop and Jim's his sidekick, like he's not going home to a bottle of whiskey and an empty heart. 

The hours dwindle away along with the last of the evening light, and by the time Jim wakes up it's dark and the stars are out over the bay, the moon casting an eerie light over his face.

"Rise and shine, princess," Harvey says. His voice sounds odd. "Time to go."

No one showed up on the docks, like they suspected, but they'd been told to check it out anyway  _just in case._ Harvey hates that, "just in case". Like just throwing yourself into something instead of exploring every little thing that could go wrong (thus wasting time) means you're not good enough, not shrewd enough.

"You gave me your jacket," Jim says. His tone makes it sound like a question.

"And now I'll have it back," Harvey answers gruffly, pointedly not meeting Jim's amused gaze. He shrugs the proffered jacket back on and starts the car. The engine sputters and they're away, weaving through late night traffic and past red lights just because they can.

"Night, Harv," Jim says amicably, stepping out the car where they've pulled up outside his place.

"Night, Jim."

It's the last time Harvey will speak that day, and for some odd reason he knows it. He drives back to his dreaded apartment with the radio blaring infuriatingly, but he doesn't turn it off. It makes the silence louder when he finally falls onto his couch. Though now it'll take him hours to sleep, he forces himself to leave his liquor cabinet alone.

Without realising, he's saving it all for tomorrow.


	2. I'm Not A Lonely Man

Jim's alarm clock didn't go off. Now he's late and pissed about it.

He clatters into the precinct and it's like everyone is glaring at him, apart from Ed who gives him a Cheshire Cat grin and a little wave. He sighs and returns the smile, makes his way over to his desk.

"What kept you, Jimbo? Starting to think you'd left me for dead," Harvey says from behind him.

"Sorry. My alarm."

"You jus' make sure it doesn't happen again," Harvey says sternly, but he's grinning. 

"So, you know that stakeout we did? For Maroni's drug guys?"

"I know it well."

"Well, they never showed up, right? Wanna know why they didn't show up?"

"Go on."

"They were dead. Two bodies found on Maroni's side of town fitting the exact same description of our dealers. Someone wanted to get rid of them," Harvey finishes proudly.

"So why aren't you down there?"

"I could be nice and say I was waiting for you, but in truth," Harvey lowers his voice, "I reckon someone here tipped Maroni off that we were after his cronies, and he had them killed."

Gordon tilts his head, like he's waiting for more.

"So," Harvey continues, "I'm checking up on our officers here."

"Really, Harv? You're investigating corruption in the force?" Jim narrows his eyes. "Because you can start with yourself."

It's like a special tension switch has been flipped and the air is electric.

"Listen here, hotshot," Harvey says, irritated. "This side of town belongs to Falcone. That's just the way it is, you know that. But if someone's snitching to Maroni, it's gonna bring us all down, okay? You won't have the chance to prove yourself as /Gotham's golden boy/, incorruptible Jim Gordon anymore if Maroni's got your guts as a trophy on his fireplace."

"This place needs to be brought down. It's rotten to the core. If Maroni kills me, then at least I'll die knowing I'm not corrupt and didn't give in," Jim snaps.

"That's it, isn't it? You think you're untouchable. You see the rest of us as scum, and you're some sort of martyr. Well, I'll tell you now- you're no different to us. We've all got morals just as clear as yours, _Jim_ , 'cept we're not so stupid to go round bleating about them," Harvey yells.

By now, the entire precinct is silent. Harvey can feel his hands shaking with anger and at the same time he's cursing himself. What the fuck have I done.

"I'm just here to get the job done," Jim says quietly, visibly putting in the effort to stay calm. "Whatever it takes. I'm sure you all know right from wrong, it's just that I'm the only one able to show it."

Harvey balls his hands into fists. He's going to hit the kid, he's _this_  close. "Get out," he says through clenched teeth. "Get. Out."

Jim gives him this look and it's betrayal, hatred, fury and sorrow all in one stupid, stupid, beautiful expression. He leaves, chin up, defiant and proud. Like always.

Harvey wants to die. He really does. He doesn't even register the glass he's picked up smashing as he hurls it across the room.

Breathing hard, Harvey glances around.

"What are you staring at? Get back to work," he yells, sinking down onto his chair, exhausted.

***  
Eventually, Essen finds him and shuffles over like he's a live bomb.

"Harvey," she says.

He doesn't answer.

"Detective Bullock," she tries again. "I think you need to go home."

Harvey wants to tell her no he _really_ doesn't because if he goes home there'll be nothing to stop him from drinking every bottle he's got. He doesn't, just nods, gathers up some of his stuff and leaves. Pretends he can't feel everyone's eyes on his back.

He goes home and does just that, draws his curtains so it's dark, curls up on the sofa with a bottle of vodka and drinks till he's sick and crying and can finally sleep.

Fucking Jim Gordon. Fuck. Fuck.


	3. Tell 'Em We're Survivors

It's not every day that you wake up with a raging hangover and your boss on the end of the phone telling you your partner has gone missing. If it was, Harvey would have overdosed long ago.

"What do you mean, he's gone missing?"

"I mean we don't know where he is, Harvey."

"Don't get smart with me!" Harvey hisses, and regrets it instantly. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

"It's fine. I understand."

No you fucking don't, not even I do.

"Did he come in to work?"

"Yeah, he came in. Said he was checking up on a lead, left about four hours ago. He hasn't been back and we can't reach his cell," Essen relays mournfully.

He can tell she doesn't want to be telling him this, but knows what'd happen if he found out she'd kept it from him. He suspects she thought Jim missing a while back and has only just plucked up the courage to let him know.

"I'm going to look," Harvey tells her. "Search his desk, see if he was working on anything, see if he left any clues as to where he was going."

"We're doing it now."

"I know, I know," Harvey passes a tired hand over his eyes. He gets up, scrubs his face and pulls on another shirt, grabs his keys and leaves.

"I'll call you," Essen says wisely.

She hangs up and Harvey's left with his rapid heartbeat and growing dread. The idiot. The absolute idiot, why hadn't Jim waited for him?

The car isn't fast enough, the lights are too slow and it seems every other vehicle on the road is trying to make his life hell. At one point he almost screams my partner's going to fucking die if you don't move- assuming he isn't already dead, which Harvey can't do because he can't stand to lose Jim. Not like this, not on these terms.

His phone rings then, and he almost doesn't answer it, stuck in a traffic jam.

"Bullock."

"Harvey! Good to hear your voice," and if that isn't Maroni-

"What do you want?"

"It's more a case of what do /you/ want, my friend. I have someone here who would like to speak to you," Maroni says jovially. The phone is passed and fuck,

"Harvey?"

"Jim! Jim-"

"Ah, that's enough, Mr. Bullock. You do want me to keep this one fresh, don't you?"

"You don't want to be buried alive, do you?" Harvey answers furiously. Maroni laughs.

"Hey, now, Harvey. We understand each other. I'll give you back your boy on the condition that you stop prying into my business and forcing me to kill good men," the gangster tells him.

"Where are you?"

"Slow down," Maroni laughs again, an evil sound. "I'm not going to tell you where he is, you'll have to find him. And better sooner than later, no, Jim?"

There's an obvious thud and Harvey physically recoils at Jim's anguished cry.

"Leave him the fuck alone-" the older cop starts, but Maroni has hung up and that's all he's going to get. His stomach is in knots, hands shaking on the wheel.

He has to compose himself before he calls Essen.

"Maroni called me, he's got Jim. He said we've got to find him ourselves. Send every cop you have, I'm going to the docks."

He doesn't even wait for a reply.

The docks are a little less appealing than they were last night, partly because the sky is grey this time and the sun is hidden, and mostly because Jim isn't there.

"Jim?" Harvey shouts into the bitter cold. He makes his way past crates and equipment with no reply. He calls and calls, checks every nook and cranny, wrenches open crates but to no avail. There is nothing.

Second on his list is where Maroni's dealers were found dead. It's about fifteen minutes away with traffic. If he ignores any red lights, he can make it in ten.

Harvey knows the place. When he was a lot younger, he'd visit the dirty little bar on the same street. Maroni's men were found further down, in an alley he knows all too well, memories of being pressed up against the wall with some girl he'd found in the dimly lit booths of the bar.

He walks hurriedly, not quite running but heart in his throat. Somewhere, a cat yowls and he's turning the corner into the alley.  
"Jim?"

Part of him hopes that shivering, dark shape curled on the ground isn't Jim, and another hopes to God it is because he can't stand this anymore.

"Jim," Harvey breathes, coming to kneel beside him. His nerves are shot to pieces but he's almost crying with relief that his partner is here, is alive, if barely.

"Thought you'd left me for dead," Jim grits out, pulling the bravest, bloodstained grin Harvey has ever seen and shit, they're both shaking, with laughter and relief and terror.

"How bad is it?" Harvey asks.

"I think my rib is broken. And my wrist hurts," Jim replies carefully. His eyes flutter briefly shut. Harvey can't stop looking at him, afraid that if he doesn't, Jim will be gone. The kid's face is marred by a thick gash, angry red laid into his cheek, there are bruises spreading across his neck and the older detective is sure there will be more.

"Can you stand?" he asks softly.

"I can try," and then Harvey is wrapping Jim's arm round his shoulder, lacing their fingers together and pulling him up as gently as he can.

"Fuck," Jim says, voice wavering, and Harvey squeezes his hand.

"You're gonna be okay," he mumbles. "You're gonna be alright."

They stagger back to the car, Jim slumping into the front seat.

Harvey calls Essen. "I've got him."

"Thank God! Is he alright?"

"He will be. Mind if I patch him up at home?"

"... Of course. You need anything?"

"No, no. Thank you, Essen. Thank you," Harvey sighs. He ends the call and slips into the driver's seat. "I'm gonna sort you out, that okay, Jimbo?"

"Wouldn't have anyone else," Jim answers with a wink. Harvey rolls his eyes, starts the engine and the drive back to Jim's place... he'd rather his partner didn't see the mess of his own home, and doesn't want to be reminded of it himself.

When he's calmed down a little, he leans back in the seat and sighs. He is exhausted, but on a high, too.

"Harvey?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Harvey smiles.


	4. I Love You Now Like I Loved You Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it gets smutty.

Jim has a sprained wrist, a broken rib and a cut face.

"You know all that shit I said," Harvey starts, because he figures he _has_  to bring this up. He's so damn ashamed.

"This really the time, Harv?" Jim asks wryly. It's true, Harvey's currently putting crude stitches in his cheek.

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Gordon says encouragingly. He winces slightly, fingers seeking out his injured rib. "Go on."

"I didn't mean any of it," Harvey says, averting his gaze. "I mean, you are the incorruptible Jim Gordon." Jim laughs. "But I don't... I don't resent you for it."

Jim raises his eyebrows.

Harvey gives in. "Alright. I do. I wish I was unwavering and just as you are," he snorts."All I'm saying is, I said some nasty stuff and I'm sorry I hurt you, partner."

Jim grins. The fucker grabs Harvey's hand (?????) and _grins_.

"I forgive you," he says. He swallows, a little more serious now. "And I'm sorry. I know you're a good cop, Harv, I know it."

Harvey gives a half smile. He glances down to where their hands are still linked. Jim lets go like he's been burned, and Harvey nearly fucks up his stitches. Wordlessly, he finishes them.

"Okay," he says. "I need to bandage your ribs."

Jim blinks, fingers toying hesitantly with the hem of his shirt. He pulls it up and over his head and Harvey pretends he's staring at the bruises and not the biggest expanse of Jim's skin he's seen.

"They really did knock you up, then," he says offhandedly but inside, he's angry, angry that anyone would do this.

"Looks worse than it feels," Jim offers.

Harvey suppresses an eye roll.

He takes the bandages and wraps them as carefully as he can, trying to ignore Jim's ragged breathing. The kid's bloody bottom lip is pinned beneath his teeth and it's distracting.

"All done," Harvey says.

"Thanks."

There's an awkward pause where Jim's just staring at him and he has to look away. "I'll go, then. Are you going to be okay?"

Jim's eyes widen a little, almost imperceptible, but Harvey's a cop and he was wishing for it.

"I... I'll be fine," Gordon says resignedly. He gives a good attempt at a smile, but it doesn't get past Harvey.

The older cop sighs. "What is it, Jim?"  
Jim passes his good hand over his mouth and exhales.

"Will you stay?" he mutters, so quiet Harvey almost doesn't hear.

"What?" He heard fine, just wants to be sure, maybe gets a sick pleasure out of seeing Jim flounder like _he_  has for the past... God knows how long.

"I asked you to stay," Jim says a little louder, not looking at him this time. Harvey breaks into a smile that Jim can't see until he sits beside him.

"What d'you want with me?" Harvey asks, voice lower than he expected. He watches

Jim's face; it's like he's deliberating over something and then one side wins out. His good hand goes up to cup Harvey's face and there is nothing but their racing heartbeats and quickened breathing.

Jim's eyes flicker down to his lips and Harvey forces himself not to make the first move. There's a beat, and Jim Gordon is kissing him, soft and slow, one hand curling in his hair.

Harvey kisses back, unable to hold back, their tongues sliding together and Jim fucking whimpers into his mouth.

"Jim," Harvey rasps, fumbling with the buttons of his partner's shirt. "You have _no idea_  how long I've wanted to do this."

"Yeah, Harv?" Jim gasps, arching up as Harvey's fingernails trail down his chest. "You should have told- _fuck_ -" and Harvey's palming his dick through his pants.

" _Christ_ , Gordon," the older detective pants. "I never knew you'd be so desperate."

"Sure you did," Jim murmurs, making short work of Harvey's shirt. They pause to remove their clothes as fast as they can and-

"Jesus," Harvey says. He laughs a little breathlessly. Jim is beautiful, no other way to describe his swollen lips, peaked nipples, skin marred with scars and taut with muscle, thick cock jutting out flushed against his stomach, eyes dark, panting softly.

"Dammit, Harvey, don't stare," Jim mutters, looking away.

"Can't help it," Harvey responds gruffly, pulling Jim in for another kiss. The younger man's mouth opens readily to his tongue, and he moans, straight up _moans_  when Harvey bites down on his lip. This is surreal.

"Really wanna fuck you, Jim," Harvey grits out, Gordon's hand firm on his cock. "Wanna see you filled up, all pretty and begging for it-"

"Jesus, Harv," Jim gasps out, and he's a little shocked but more turned on than he's ever been. His dick is smearing precome over his stomach as he shifts onto his knees to look Harvey in the eye. He takes Harvey's cock into the wet, warm heat of his mouth and laps at the head. The other man thinks he might come right there, and he twists his fingers into Jim's hair and tests slowly fucking his mouth. Jim groans and the vibrations feel so, so good. He takes Harvey deeper, choking a little and fuck, that's it.

"Stop," the older man says, voice raw with arousal. "Stop, Jim, unless you want a mouthful right now-"

"Fuck me, Harvey," Jim interrupts, literally nuzzling his partner's cock. Honest to God, he's so darn eager it's painful.

Harvey answers by pulling Jim up and guiding him to the sofa, careful of his injuries, accepting the bottle of lube Jim snatches from the cupboard. He doesn't ask why it's there.

"God, Jim, you're gonna be the death of me," he whispers and the bastard just smirks.  
Coating his fingers with lube, Harvey pushes one into the tight hole of Jim's ass. Jim's breathing sharpens as he adds another finger, stretching him as best he can.

"Fuck, Harvey!" he almost yelps as a skilled finger brushes his prostate. Harvey just returns that earlier smirk.

"Don't tease," Jim tries again.

Harvey obliges to a point, removing his fingers and spreading lube over his cock.

"Tell me what you want, Jim."

"What? Aw, Harvey-"

"Come on," Harvey grins.

Jim fixes him with the best glare he can from his position spread naked across his sofa about to beg for his partner's cock in his ass.

" _Please_  fuck me," he says loudly.

"Four out of ten."

"What?!"

"I'm waiting."

Jim closes his eyes for a second, exhaling shakily. "Please fuck me, Harvey. Please." he pauses- "I want you, I want you to f-fuck me. Please, I need you-" and then he's gasping and arching his back because Harvey's dick is pushing into his ass.

"You look beautiful," Harvey tells him, leaning forward to kiss down Jim's neck, sucking marks into the gorgeous skin there.

Jim just moans, bucking his hips into Harvey's quickening thrusts, to hell with dignity. He feels full, so full and the pleasure is building up as Harvey's cock pounds into him.

"You like that? You like being fucked like this, pretty boy?" Harvey breathes, and maybe he's gone too far but then Jim is digging his fingernails into Harvey's arms, shouting his name and coming with a bitten off cry. His come coats Harvey's belly, cock twitching beneath them. And that sight, of Jim Gordon, Gotham's golden boy, with his teeth digging into his lip, sticky with his own come, breathing hard and speechless, is what makes Harvey tumble over the edge.

"Fuck," Harvey nearly sobs into Jim's shoulder, hips stuttering as he fills him up.

They lie there together till Harvey pulls out and Jim comes back to the real world.  
Both of them can think of a million things to say, some of them funny, some of them bitter, some of them loving, some of them deep, some of them casual.

They elect to say nothing, Jim sitting up with a wince and leaning against Harvey's shoulder, the older man pulling him closer and sighing.

"I'm gonna shower," Jim says eventually, his voice hoarse.

"Aw."

"I don't want to sit here with your come leaking onto my couch," Jim deadpans, and then they're both cracking up. "Join me if you want."

So he does. Harvey does. They stand under the boiling water and splash each other, steal a few kisses, use the excuse of cleaning to touch each other a little more.

"Harvey," Jim says as they're drying off.

"Mm?"

"I, uh..." Jim licks his lips. "I have some space in my bed. You know. If you wanted."

Harvey fights the smile threatening to spread across his face. "Are you inviting me to stay?"

"Well," and that's James Gordon blushing, "yeah, I guess. Only if you want to. I mean-"

"Sure, Jimbo. I'll keep ya warm," Harvey winks.

They fall asleep in each others' arms, but it's only for warmth. It's not like they've been wanting this since day one- Jim since he was paired up with insufferable, aggressive, tactless Detective Bullock, and Harvey since he first saw that defiant blue eyed stare and found out how truly incorruptible James Gordon is.

They're both in pretty deep.


	5. I'll Be There When The Light Comes In

Jim wakes up. 

The first thing he notices is that his rib is really painful. His ass feels raw and his wrist is throbbing a little. 

The second thing he notices is that Harvey isn't next to him.

He turns over onto his stomach and buries his head in his arms.

"Jim? You alright?"

Jim cries out as he tries to turn back too quickly.

"Easy there," says Harvey, sitting beside him and setting down a tray on the bedside table.

"Thought you were gone," Jim mumbles.

Harvey looks offended. "I wouldn't do that."

"You would," Jim snorts.

"Not to you, _sunshine_ ," Harvey laughs. "Not to you. I brought you breakfast."

"What is it?"

Harvey passes him a plate of egg on toast.

"The toast is burned," Jim wrinkles his nose.

"Hey! I didn't have to do that, you know-"

"Relax, Harv, I'm kidding," Jim grins. He starts to chew. "Not bad."

Harvey settles next to him properly. "So how you feeling?"

"Like I won't be able to walk for days," Jim deadpans through a mouthful of toast. 

"That's what I like to hear, Jim lad."

The younger man starts on the second piece of toast, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Aren't we late for work?"

"For work? You are joking, aren't you?"

The expression on Jim's stupid workaholic face says no, he's not.

"Recall getting your rib broke and beaten by a mobster?" Harvey asks, folding his arms, laying on the sarcasm.

Jim concedes. "Okay," and then, "But what about you? You're alright, aren't you?" 

Harvey chuckles. "I'm the one who has to make sure you don't try and go to work with that hero complex of yours just yet."

Jim looks ready to object, but Harvey silences him.

"And I know just how to do it," he says in his creepiest, lewdest tone, and Jim looks so horrified he starts laughing. 

He sobers up a little, sighing. "You know," he says softly, "I don't know if I am alright. Well, I think I am now. But I wasn't."

Jim looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

"I downed a whole bottle of vodka the day we had that fight, passed out," he admits, "and I cried some. I'm pretty torn up about you, Jim Gordon."

"Aw, Harvey," Jim says roughly, catching Harvey's hand in his. He kisses his cheek. "I love you, man." 

Harvey lets himself grin. He feels like a huge weight has been lifted off of him; cliche but true. "I love you too, idiot. Now don't you start getting soppy, alright? We got macho man façades to maintain."

Jim discards his plate and elbows him in the ribs, snickering. He leans back against the headboard, eyes closed, smiling. The sun streams through the window and catches the gold of his hair, and Harvey has never been happier.

He's got Gotham's golden boy.

**Author's Note:**

> Work Title and Chapter Titles from "Life is a Highway" by Tom Cochrane, my Jim/Harvey song.


End file.
